


Deadlock

by solo (gay_wristwatch)



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Domestic Violence, F/F, Feels, Gun Violence, Organized Crime, References to Drugs, Slow Build, also eventual sex, basically The Sopranos/The Departed with Earps, convincing myself there are also bits of humor in here, ohhohohoh there will be angst, probably should've called this The Earps huh, yo i heard you like conflict so i put some conflict in your conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 09:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_wristwatch/pseuds/solo
Summary: A power struggle for control of the Earp family and the rising pressure of the FBI's RICO case force Waverly Earp to finally make decisions for her own sake. Nicole Haught is a new FBI agent that finds herself swept into the Earps' burgeoning chaos that seems to erupt as soon as she arrives in Purgatory. Waverly catches her eye as Purgatory heats up until it feels more like Hell.Nicole can't help but try to pull her from the fire.





	Deadlock

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: I’ve been obsessing over WayHaught for a few weeks now and just couldn’t resist the itch to write something on them any longer. This is an organized crime AU inspired by The Sopranos and The Departed (you don’t need to have seen either to read this). Wyatt Earp is more like John Gotti in this world. As for the Earp’s “turf”: in my head(w/r/t this fic) Purgatory and the Ghost River area are more like Northern New Jersey in The Sopranos.
> 
> Also I hope to god these characters aren't too OOC. 
> 
> Let me know what you think about this so far. Is it inane? Intriguing? Insufferable? Incredible? Comment!

“Take a drive around, get familiar with the place. You’ll need to know Purgatory well, and fast.” Nicole nodded. Agent Dolls seemed like he knew what he was doing–maybe a bit strict, but for the FBI that is probably a plus. And of course, he was right.  
  
“And bring me coffee when you get back, Agent Haught.” Nicole assumed that barely detectable shift in his tone was his voice when he wanted to be funny. She wasn’t entirely sure anyone but a fellow FBI agent would be able to notice…he probably spent enough time here for that to be irrelevant.  
  
She slipped on her sunglasses as she left the building and tried to look nonchalant. _Not a cop, not a cop._ A grin took over her face at that; it was true! She’d kicked ass all the way through the Marines, the Academy, rookie years in the Police Department, made Detective and finally, Nicole found herself where she’d wanted to be all those years.  
  
As she settled into her unmarked _“definitely-not-law-enforcement”_ Crown Victoria, the pressure of the seatbelt against the brand new badge in her breast pocket set the few butterflies in her stomach to fluttering.

 

* * *

  
Waverly groaned aloud when she caught Champ’s car pulling up to Sacco’s. Wynonna didn’t even look up as she said, “Just tell him to beat it. We do not have time for Chimp’s shit today.”  
  
Waverly found herself grateful that she had some excuse to send Champ away. He’d been trying to get himself into one of Wynonna’s crews for years, and Waverly was pretty sure the only reason he hadn’t been “taken care of” yet was that she was still dating him.  She pursed her lips as he slammed the door of his car shut and grinned at her.  
  
“How’s my baby?–“ Kiss. Kiss.  
  
“Champ–“ Kiss.  
  
“I know, I’m sorry came home so trashed this morning, the guys wan–“ He slid his arm around Waverly’s shoulder and walked them over to Wynonna’s table as he rambled on.  
  
“Champ! Whatever, alright? You shouldn’t be here.” Confusion or hurt twisted his features as he pulled back from another kiss. “I mean Wynonna, Doc, they don’t have anything for you today. At all. They’re really busy. You can talk to her some other time.”  
  
Champ started to protest but Wynonna, who had been listening with her back turned, shot him a look that turned whatever word he had started to say into a quiet whimper.  
  
“Alright…I’ll see you at home, then, babe.”  
  
The obnoxious rumbling of Champ’s engine soothed Waverly somehow, but as she turned back to sit with Wynonna, the tension in her body built up again. Their coffees had arrived.  
  
“She’s just…I don’t know. Out of touch,” Wynonna pulled a flask out of nowhere and poured whiskey into her cup. Waverly rolled her eyes.  
  
“More like out of her fucking mind. This is bad, Wynonna. Things could just spiral out of control from here if you don’t talk her out of this.”  
  
Her being Willa, and this being the hit they’d learned she put out on a guy loosely associated with their family. Waverly didn’t know what he’d done to Willa, but she knew it was likely something that didn’t warrant a bullet. Her eldest sister had the tendency to go overboard with retribution.  
  
“It’s not even that I give a shit about whatever idiot got himself into trouble with her,” Wynonna took a swig straight from the flask before slipping it back to where it’d came from. “She just can’t do it at Shorty’s. And of course she won’t listen to me because I’m not the boss…she is.”  
  
“You know how I feel about that.” Their tones had dropped considerably. Wynonna looked at her, expression grave. “She’s my sister, Waverly. Our sister. I love her.”  
  
“I know that. But Shorty doesn’t deserve to have his fucking pride and joy sullied with her petty bullshit. If she won’t listen to you, we have to do something.”  
  
“Something.”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“I don’t know. She probably wants him dead more than she wants to do it at Shorty’s…she’s just being stubborn about that. If Shorty’s isn’t open, he can’t die there…”  
  
Wynonna waited and watched her sister’s mind work.  
  
“Talk to Shorty. Tell him to close for ‘renovations’ or something, pay him for the time the bar’s shut down.”  
  
“I’ll give it a shot. I was thinking more along the lines of arson or something…That’s why I keep ya around, baby girl. ' _Make him an offer he can’t refuse.'_ You’re a natural.” Waverly giggled and smacked Wynonna’s shoulder as she stood to leave.  
  
Deciding on a whim to take a walk around the familiar neighborhood, Waverly felt a grim expression form on her face as she strode out of Wynonna’s sight. Wind blew through her too-light clothing as anxiety started to tear at her chest. She could only lie to herself so much. Waverly would rather walk around aimlessly, chilled past the point of comfort, than go to the apartment she shared with Champ. Worse was Willa’s unruly behavior heightening tensions in the family. Waverly had always been on the outskirts of their operations (Wynonna would probably kill Waverly herself if she tried to make a career out of crime as she had). She recalled giggling at the table with her sister–over a murder. Outskirts or no, she was involved enough.  
  
The burden of the family occupation boxed the Earp sisters in from birth, closing its grip around them as they grew older. Being the children of the last boss, it was up to them when they came of age to take the reins of the Earp family. Willa, ever the heir apparent, held the reins with gusto. Wynonna seemed resigned to their lifestyle, happy enough to not be officially at the top. Waverly was something of a black sheep. Several years younger than both Wynonna and Willa, ostracized by their father and Willa, and abandoned by their mother, she’d been too young and disconnected to join their fledgling criminal teenage trysts.  
  
Waverly didn’t think she’d ever wanted to, not really.  
  
She noticed just how far she’d been walking once she found herself approaching the park in the middle of town and half-collapsing into an empty bench.  
  
The sun started shining in earnest; what with all the wind the clouds had shifted considerably. Waverly squinted then gave up and closed her eyes. It felt like every important part of her life was not what she wanted, only what she _had_.  
  
Incidentally she also had to make her way to work soon.

 

* * *

  
Nicole pulled over and probably-illegally-parked on the side street that gave her a view of what looked to be a deli or cafe. What had caught her eye–who, rather–was a brunette stepping into the passenger side of a luxury car. Not many people around here had cars like that. She’d been looking down both sides of the street for it to pull up, allowing Nicole to get as good a look at her as she’d ever need. She almost didn’t believe it.  
  
Wynonna Earp.  
  
Suddenly her excitement at the surreality of her first day on the field as a _god-damn FBI agent_ shifted into sharp alertness. This was real. The people she’d been assigned to investigate and build a case against brazenly walked around town like they owned the place.  Nicole supposed, with her base knowledge of their legacy, that they practically did.  
  
With Wynonna gone, and the name of the establishment she’d emerged from tucked away in her memory, Nicole shifted back into gear and pulled back into the street to continue her study of Purgatory.

 

* * *

  
Waverly slipped into _The Homestead_ through the back door and made her way to the bar. Her job here was simple–calling it a job was being generous. _The Homestead_ was an establishment her father had taken over, and while it wasn’t the most wholesome place, Waverly took advantage of the opportunity for a source of legitimate money in the Earp’s murky set of assets. She functioned as some odd mixture of owner, co-manager, and occasional bartender of the club along with Gus and Curtis.

  
Waverly glanced up from the glasses she’d started polishing from force of habit, somewhat unwillingly picking her train of thought from earlier back up. Just to her right, four topless women in heels danced to the heavy beat of the music, all smooth moves and long, bare limbs.  
  
She set the glass down and leaned back on the counter, caught somewhere between staring at them unwittingly as she thought and carefully observing their dispositions and attitudes. Waverly made sure their dancers were paid well and that the club’s patrons knew the barest hint of harassment would get them thrown out. Something had always kicked Waverly off balance when she really paid attention to the writhing women.  
  
She’d earned a college degree and here she was, managing a strip club.  
  
For the umpteenth time, Waverly chalked her discomfort up to some vague feminist guilt coupling with her dissatisfaction with the seemingly forced direction of her life.  
  
“Phone for you in the back, Waverly,” Amber’s voice broke into her thoughts. Waverly wormed her way around the new set of women walking up to take the stage and shut the door to the office.  
  
“Hello?”

  
“Hey.” Wynonna.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Barely had to convince him to do anything. I told him we’d look after the bar while he’s gone getting sunburnt in the Carribean.”

  
“I can see him peeling all over Shorty’s already.”

  
“….Thanks for that image. Sounds like you want me to take it back.” Waverly smiled in time with the smirk she could hear in Wynonna’s voice.

  
“Don’t you dare. Bye, Wynonna.”  
  
Twinge of guilt aside, Waverly felt relieved. Hopefully things would turn out well enough.

 

* * *

  
“I guess it’s fitting that one would find ’Shawty’ at Shorty’s.”  
  
Waverly turned and faced the…woman…that was apparently drunk enough to let such a bad joke through her filter.  
   
“I–“ Their eyes met and Waverly opened her mouth to reply a few times before giving up and into laughter. The redhead joined her and _oh my god those dimples–_ and Waverly realized all at once that a) she still hadn’t said anything; b) this woman was tall, even as she leaned against the counter, and somehow looking up into her (friendly? flirtatious?) gaze had Waverly flustered; and c) while she gazed back thinking all that, she still hadn’t said anything. She took a much-needed deep breath.  
  
“I…should probably tell Shorty to cut you off after that one,” Waverly was blushing and there was nothing she could do to stop it.  
  
With a fresh smile, the redhead extended her hand.  
  
“I’m Nicole. Nicole Haught.”  
  
Waverly managed to formulate a timely response through the most electric handshake of her life.  
“…Right. That’s not another bad joke, is it?”  
  
“No, but it’s been the subject of far too many bad jokes.” Nicole looked at her expectantly.  
  
They hadn’t let go yet.  
  
“Oh! I’m Waverly–“ She cut herself short as she realized that if she actually had to tell this person her name, they were probably new to Purgatory. She’d not had to do many introductions in this town.  
  
“Pretty name. Fitting.”  
  
Waverly chuckled and ducked her head, somehow managing to blush harder.  
  
Then she moved her hand, blind, subconsciously wanting to tap against the counter because of all the nervous energy flitting through her stomach.  
  
Naturally, this was the exact moment after Shorty had slid Nicole’s beer between the two of them. Waverly backhanded it against the row of taps that rose up behind the bar and sent it careening back toward herself, where it summarily toppled and chilled beer soaked through her top.  
  
A beat passed where they both realized what had happened. _Perfect. Amazing._  
  
Waverly looked up to find Nicole smiling mercilessly, holding back more laughter. “You okay?”  
  
“Um, yeah, I-I owe you one.”  
  
“Hmm. Ok. Well I think you’re gonna have to make that one up to me. How about you buy me a replacement drink, tomorrow night?”  
  
“Oh, I can’t. No. I mean I’d love to. Li–like to. Uh…but I have plans. Yeah. I’m a planner,” Waverly cringed internally while Nicole nodded. “Like to know what I’m doing at least two, or three days…in advance…  
  
“I’m in a relationship! With a boy. Man.”  
  
“A boy-man?” _Those dimples again._ “Yep, I’ve been there. It’s the worst.” Nicole turned and wrote her number on a nearby napkin. “Okay, well, some other time.” And then she was walking away, looking back. “I mean it,”she said with one last smile.  
  
Having recovered slightly, Waverly reached over the bar for a few towels and patted herself dry while she read the napkin.  
  
_Nicole Haught…of course._  
  
After changing in the bathroom, Waverly collected the keys from Shorty and assured him everything would be fine several times while he was gone, and finally went home.  
  
To Champ.  
  
Before she turned the key to enter their apartment(where she could hear him joking with one of his idiot friends), she paused for a moment. The impulse she’d brushed off in previous months–no, years, she amended with horror–just didn’t seem to go away today. It emerged as a clear thought when she pushed the door open and saw Champ chugging a beer over the sink.  
  
_This is not at all what I want._


End file.
